


Vengeance is Mine

by FlyingFalling



Category: UnDeadwood (Web Series)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Body Horror, Creature Fic, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Secrets, UnDeadwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 07:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21175424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingFalling/pseuds/FlyingFalling
Summary: Her sister was dead - may she rest in peace - and Arabella would guard her own secrets even more closely than she had done ever since that fateful day. Folks in Deadwood did not ask questions; at least not if they were not all too keen on ending up in a wooden box before the day was over.





	Vengeance is Mine

Facing death day in, day out bound people together pretty quickly it appeared. There was no trust or loyalty between strangers however. Not even between Arabella and Miriam; and yet the latter had more or less taken Arabella under her wing the moment the two women had exchanged formalities. Maybe it was merely a bond of sisterhood and sensing some kind of familiarity in the way the other hinted at her past and husband. Neither of these two were things Arabella longed to return to.

Still, out here surrounded by all kinds of strange creatures and beasts, they had to work together if they wanted to earn their money after preferably walking out of this in one piece. 

Her sister was dead - may she rest in peace - and Arabella would guard her own secrets even more closely than she had done ever since that fateful day. Folks in Deadwood did not ask questions; at least not if they were not all too keen on ending up in a wooden box before the day was over.

"Could I please have my coat back, Miss Whitlock?"

Arabella would rather give in to the childish notion of clutching onto said garment like a child. Reluctant to give up its warmth and shelter she closed her eyes again; hoping the reverend had not yet noticed her being awake at this late hour. He would only chide her for not taking care of herself or her mortal body or whatever else he might come up with now. Despite her better judgment Arabella had grown quite fond of this mismatched group.

Here, out in the middle of nowhere, far from her duties, Arabella could finally grant herself some kind of freedom. Merely holding onto something just because she felt like it… well, it had become something precious. Recently, mostly everything else she touched tended to slip out of her grasp. She had almost hurt Miriam today. Worse, she might actually have killed her if not for the ring snapping her back into consciousness. Miriam would never know that the one holding onto her while she slept could have snapped her neck just as easily. 

Thus Arabella kept wearing the ring, despite knowing that its components weakened her even in her human form. Slowly but surely poisoning herself was better than hurting the one person who looked at her as if she were worth more than the gold they would earn once all this was over. That was if they all survived that long. Comfort was rare and Arabella greedily took every opportunity she got to reach for it. 

For the time being though, she let the good reverend wait a little longer. As the first to keep watch this night, Arabella had borrowed the coat or rather had let it happen when Sharpe pretty much wrestled the man of God out of it and draped it over her shoulders instead. 

The man, Sharpe, was not one of many words. As silent as a grave – was what Aly had called it, promptly followed by an almost pained groan from the man who now probably regretted confirming his moniker. Unable to read him or any of the other men of their group further made Arabella more nervous than the thought of a lawless man being capable of behaving like a gentleman. She had truly seen stranger things happening in the past. In Deadwood even, despite the fairly short amount of time she had spent there. She had come to terms with not learning anything more about Miriam than she absolutely needed to know and, strangely Arabella was content with that. The trust between them was of the kind she could barely put into words.

Arabella closes her eyes, grimacing when she remembers what she had almost done mere hours ago and eventually she turns to the pastor's voice when he repeats his question. Or rather, she turns towards where he kneels before her. At least he had not tried shaking her awake yet unlike Sharpe had the other night. It might as well have been Miriam or Aly who had pinched her cheek, and it probably had been one of the two. And yet it was way more appealing to bear a grudge against the man who had let her bruise her tailbone.

“You will not go up in flames for trying to wake me, Father." 

Speaking of flames… the ring on her finger felt more like a brand iron than a vow of love. Though it hurt like hell, Arabella wore it as a means of protection. Not necessarily her own. 

It had been far too long since she had last taken all her herbs and tinctures. The truth left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth: a part of her missed it immensely; the change, being something not quite human and also so much more than just that. It was well-nigh intoxicating; feeling this certain kind of freedom and tremendous power coursing through her veins. And yet, unlike her beloved sister, Arabella had not yet managed the fluent change between her forms. 

Remembering decaying flesh, her sister’s beautiful eyes slowly crumbling and eventually turning to ash and dust right before her… Arabella knew one thing to be true. This freedom just like any other had its pitfalls. It has been hours since her involuntarily change and yet Arabella feels her limbs and internal organs rearranging and shrinking to fit inside her all of a sudden restricting form. 

Even now, her body is still burning, as if she were caught in purgatory. One day, she knows, she will feel those very flames. One day she will be punished for everything she has done and will continue to do. Today though, today is not that day. 

"I apologize, Father."

This, the pain and remorse, reminds Arabella of everything keeping her awake. Distorted images dance around her mind’s eye and she dreads drifting off to sleep in fear of the images' return.

Whenever she closes her eyes she sees her sister's body falling victim to time and eventually to decay. In the dark of the night, hidden by shadows Arabella studies the man of God who might as well be something or someone else entirely. She on the other hand is still more human than anything else And for as long as Arabella is able to she will hold onto this part of herself.

"It is not your fault, my child." Matthew’s eyes meet hers despite the darkness around them, and for a tiny moment their usual warmth has vanished. Something else lies in them, something dire. Suddenly the man of God smiles; almost knowingly. 

Arabella lowers her gaze then, and sees the rosary in his bare hands. Where they are usually covered by dark leather there are now cuts and burns all across his skin. The scent of faintly burnt flesh reaches her nose before her mind can even progress what she is witnessing. Then the reverend is pulling on his gloves and the scent is gone, as if memory and present intermingled and produced an illusion even while she was awake. But was she really?

"We all have our dark sides and the darkness lies within all of us." 

The warmth of his voice makes her shudder and then the reverend smiles once mord before he continues speaking, seemingly as an afterthought. “Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord…"

And while he recites bible passage after bible passage Matthew’s all of a sudden eerily soothing voice lulls Arabella back to sleep before she can even start to question the strangeness of it all. In the morning the only thing Arabella remembers is the memory of her flesh: the pain and familiar alternation of wakefulness and exhaustion and the seemingly unrelated query whether a man of God can walk through hellfire and emerge from it, fueled by holy rage and hunger for vengeance.

**Author's Note:**

> The bible quote is from Romans 12:19. I might need to add that I wrote this after watching the first episode while absolutely exhaused during a train ride. I don't know if that was a good idea or not but I decided to post the result anyway.


End file.
